May 30, 2002

Stanley Elkin, who never quite got himself a name, wrote a novel called The Franchiser about a man who gains a strange inheritance from his wealthy godfather. He is given the right to borrow money at the prime rate in perpetuity. This lucky legatee, Ben Flesh by name, uses the leverage to buy franchises: Burger Kings, Travel Inns, Texaco service stations, all the roadside's hideous familiarity. He spends his days driving from one franchise to another, a man with nothing but names, none of which is his own and all of which he owns. It's a Great American Novel. [Gary Greenberg in McSweeney's]

Self-Indulgence Warning. There's still plenty of time to move me up the rankings in Up Yours' Sexiest Male Blogger Poll, since apparently this self-esteem nightmare will be continuing until the end of the week. And if you're looking for some documentation on which to base your vote, Mike has posted his KG of the Week. And unlike the last one, this time I have a neck!

Racial Profiling for Dummies. I suppose there's some folks out there living in cities that get positive coverage, but if, like me, you live in a place like Jersey City and you see your city's name on the cover of this month's GQ, it's a pretty safe bet that the article ain't going to be a travel feature. The article is "Misadventures of a Racial Profiler" by Walter Kirn (not available online), and details Kirn's trip to the city that "is to Islamic-fundamentalist violence as Dodge City was to cattle rustling." Kirn heads to the belly of the beast to interview Arab Muslims, and along the way paints a lovely picture of my current home:

Looking for a Muslim, any Muslim, I walk the streets. They're stupendously depressing. The center of Jersey City, whose whole economy seems to be based on the sale of discount phone cards used for twenty minutes of long distance to countries such as Tonga and Turkmenistan, reeks of disconnection and thwarted dreams.

Besides complaining about his "miserable visit," the recurring image of the article is Kirn's difficulty in finding or recognizing Muslims to talk to, a difficulty that creates huge doubts in his mind about the effectiveness of racial profiling.

It could be an interesting point, and might be far more persuasive if Kirn's attempts to find and talk to Muslims didn't make him look like a retarded monkey who had been living in the Black Hills before GQ gave him a plane ticket and an expense account. Some examples of Kirn's investigative technique:

In the V.I.P. Diner where Mohammed Atta ate, I venture leading remarks to patrons and waitresses. "Lots of Arabs around here?" Blank reactions.

If one abiding feature of Muslimhood remains in my brain after all this second-guessing, it's this: a proclivity for driving cabs.

[The owner of Boulevard Drinks] squints at me. "Why would you want to pick up Arabic?"
"I don't know. To read the holy Koran." [...] "Are you a Muslim?"

If Kirn's point is that racial profiling won't do any good if the practitioners are morons who seek information by randomly accosting strangers and hailing cabs, then I guess the point is made. And don't let the Pulaski Skyway hit your ass on the way out.

Why does The Scripps Howard National Spelling Bee, an event that tests an increasingly pointless skill, get such glowing, blanket coverage while The World Series of Poker, an infinitely more interesting competition that requires luck, skill, and daring, gets practically none? Is it because one involves cute little nerdy kids while the other involves swarthy, gamblers hunched over large piles of chips? Probably.

Here's a depressing thought for those of us who are hoping that a certain NY-based American League team fails to win another pennant this season: even if September finds the Bombers a few games out, the team plays 20 of its final 23 games against the Tigers, Orioles, and Devil Rays. Bleh.

More on the "Bud Bowl" All-Star Ballot. I've thought a bit more about the "Vote for an All-Expos/Twins All-Star Game" plan, and while I'm not going to be stuffing the ballot box myself (I'm actually in favor of contraction, at least when it comes to the Expos, and probably for the Marlins as well, and certainly for the Yankees.), I have to admit the idea of Bud Selig watching three innings of a Twins-Expos game in his home stadium is real damn funny. Still, I have no actual desire to watch large numbers of Expos play, a sentiment shared by the good people of Montreal. Anyway, if you're interested in the meme, you can follow its progression in the Clutch Hits message board devoted to the topic.

To avoid boring everybody, I've listed my All-Star selections in the comment box. And Lou forgive me, I actually voted for two Yankees (and really should have voted for three).

Dammit, just because I don't actually live in one of the five boroughs, the masters of the finely designed NYCBloggers.com have cruelly barred me from their little club. If you are not so unfortunate, I suggest you head over and join the club. I shall have to create a similar site involving PATH stations, once I burrow my way out of this huge pile of laundry and bills.

Speaking of such local matters, isn't it about time for the Big Apple BloggerBash, part the third? I would think so! What if I were to just name an upcoming Friday, and even say that it would take place at the same bar as the last one? Would that set the ball rolling? Hmmm?

Double Update: A Donk First! I have been informed by the kindly folks at NYCBloggers.com that I can add my name to their growing ranks, and have thusly done so. I have also been informed that a BABB3 is definitely in the works.

While I was away, I found out that I had been kindly included as a contestant in Up Yours' "Vote for the hottest, sexiest , Male blogger in the blogosphere" poll, and let me tell you, there's no more exciting feeling than finding out in the middle of a vacation that you may, in fact, be the least sexy blogger known to man. So if you want to make us here at The Donk feel pretty damn good, head on over there and at least get us out of last place. We thank you in the sexiest possible way.

(Actually written at about 1:30 in the a.m., but not posted until daylight come.) Through the magic of technology and cross-country flight I find myself posting from the comfort of my own bedroom. It was an odd trip for me, since in a lot of ways Seattle still feels more like my home than Jersey. I've spent the last week among most of my closest friends and visiting familiar, favorite places, so it's taking a little while to sink in that this is the permanent, and that was just a fine interlude. I remember flying into Newark about a year after I moved to Seattle, and how excited I was to see the flying neon eagle on the Anheiser-Busch plant near the airport; it's a little like how I felt seeing the Space Needle last Wednesday.

In a two-minute recap of what I did during this past week instead of working and blogging (a week in which I spent a total of about 20 minutes in front of a computer), I spent a lot of time hanging out with some of the best damn people on this big, blue marble, was taken by my old roommate Murph to a Mariners 7-3 win over Tampa Bay (folks, you have no idea just how popular Ichiro is), went to the Woodland Zoo and saw a baby elephant, ate at Catfish Corner, had some fine Vietnamese sandwiches, vegetarian Ethiopian and barbecued salmon, took a bus up to Canada for the lovely wedding of the wonderful newlyweds, Kate and Steve Leroux, hung out in Vancouver with Zach and Heather (what a gal!), did a little Canadian shopping (acetaminophen with codeine, anyone?), checked out this hip new coffee place, Starbucks, and just had an all-around action-packed time. Thanks to all my NW friends for helping me do up the town Broadway (Capitol Hill, that is) Style!

May 28, 2002

Greetings from between Gates A and B of the Sea-Tac International Airport. It's been a long and overwhelming trip filled with triumph, heartache, tragedy, and love, but in less than an hour I'll be safely on my way back to New Jersey, the happiest land on Earth. For those of you who've stuck with The Donk during our hiatus, fret not, as the silence will soon be at an end.

May 25, 2002

Hello. This is Juli. We have kidnapped Mr. Goldstein and are holding him hostage in Seattle. We are keeping him entertained until our demands are met. So far we have filled him with various microbrews from local pubs and dragged him to the local hippy-fests. He went out of control at the skee-ball booth so we made him sit in on a LOUD drum circle... He was the only jewish guy there... We will send him back when we have exhausted all possible means of torture.

May 20, 2002

Just to put it simply, if I don't get out of town for a few days I'm going to go crazy and start chucking my furniture out onto the Pulaski Skyway down there. Fortunately, 48 hours from now, I'm going to be on a plane heading west towards Seattle. Look out Emerald City! (Oh, that's a heads-up for a bloggage reduction.)

Via Mike Whybark, Casey Marshall's Picture of Weblogs, a friggin' cool spiral-shaped searchable map of the blogiverse. The diagram features about hundreds of blogs, with color-coded lines showing how they're all connected. It would take way too long to explain fully, so just go and check it out.

Super-Special Self-Parody Quiz! This week's New Yorker features the profile "A Man-Child in Lotusland: Inside the Big World of Shaquille O'Neal" by Rebecca Mead. In an opinion most likely unique among New Yorker profile subjects, O'Neal lists the Walter Matthau character from "The Bad News Bears" and Redd Foxx as the two non-relatives from history he'd most like to know.

With that in mind, which of the following obscure, graduate-level references does Mead not use in the article?

B. The sight of [O'Neal] backing towards the basket, slowly shoving the opposing team's center, inch by inch, brings to mind nothing so much as Sisyphus endlessly rolling the rock up the hill.

C. [O'Neal] wears size-22 basketball shoes, which are made for him by a company called Starter. (When the Lakers' equipment manager carries the shoes into the locker room before a game, he cradles them in gentle arms, as if he were the nursemaid of Otus and Ephialtes, the twin giant sons of Poseidon.)

Post your guesses in the comments box; there's no prize or anything, but I'd like to get some comments.

Non-Attack of the Clones Movie Review: I'm not much for the movie reviews, but I saw About a Boy last night and it was excellent, much better than I thought it was going to be. Crisp, funny, great performance by Hugh Grant, it's definitely a film to check out if for some strange reason you don't want to go watch stuff get blowed up real good.

It was close, but it seems that my readers are clamoring for me to ridicule the less fortunate, which is certainly a relief since a late surge by Recipes might have meant that I'd have been forced to divulge the secret of my signature deviled eggs (here's a hint, though: eggs are not an ingredient). We here at The Donk appreciate your support, and hope to continue serving your mild amusement needs in the future.

And by reader request, let's start ridiculing the ignorant and less-fortunate! Boy, those ignorant people sure are stupid! And those less-fortunate people, why don't they...become more fortunate...and be less...ignorant?

Well, folks, sometimes a huge editorial shift like this takes some time.

This is a bit out of character for me, I suppose, but this blog serves a personal purpose as well as a public one, and strangely enough this seems the least awkward way for me to tell a few people who ought to know. So briefly, Rachel and I are no longer together. It was amicable and we're both doing okay, but it's all obviously rather sad. Anyway, back to the hilarity.

May 18, 2002

Hmm...work on my freelance assignment to create an inventory processing manual for a shipping logistics company, or watch the Spongebob Squarepants marathon. It's this sort of dilemma which illustrates why I would make a very poor work-at-home employee.

I was driving up 287, the lights were on, so I ended up attending my first-ever minor league game, a not-all-that-exciting 3-2 loss by the hometown Somerset Patriots to the Newark Bears. The teams are part of the Atlantic League, an independent league whose teams contain several ex-major leaguers hoping to make their way back to the show (Jose Canseco was the foremost example of this a couple years back, and tonight's exes included Wes Chamberlain and Curtis Goodwin), as well as promising prospects hoping to catch on with a major league organization, such as the Cubs' Bobby Hill (no, not that Bobby Hill).

I arrived at the ballpark about a half-hour after the game started, scoring a $9 ticket for a seat on the aisle, two rows behind the plate. The game itself was almost completely uneventful, but the ballpark was pretty darn nice, I sat next to some Somerset regulars who I had a nice conversation with, and they had Dippin' Dots. From where I sat I had a great view of the matchups, and the players were noticeably less talented than the major leaguers I'm used to seeing; the pitchers were a gear slower, with less bite and movement, and the hitters occasionally seemed to be a bit unsure of themselves at the plate. Definitely worth nine bucks, though, and I think I'll be going back.

As World Wrestling Federation Entertainment, we have entertained millions of fans around the United States and around the globe," said Linda McMahon, CEO of World Wrestling Entertainment. "Our new name puts the emphasis on the "E" for entertainment, what our company does best. WWE provides us with a global identity that is distinct and unencumbered, which is critical to our U.S. and international growth plans."

Mrs. McMahon said the company began considering dropping the word "Federation" from its name when World Wildlife Fund (a/k/a World Wide Fund for Nature) prevailed in a recent court action in the United Kingdom.

Coincidentally, I started to consider getting out and meeting new people after I was evicted from my apartment and my girlfriend filed a restraining order against me.

Me: I have a question. Since you railed hard on what you don't like in a blog what do YOU like.
MW: I just like personality, character ... the kind that I'm drawn to in real life is reflected in the sort of blog I want to read. [...] Do you want me to give you a favorite blog top ten list?
[...]
Me: You listed like four, where are the other six blogs?
MW: Ken Goldstein is the least grating of the NYC blog society. You know it?
Me: Again...No

Wow! Where I come from, that's a compliment! And where I come from is a very sad place indeed...

May 15, 2002

You have to hand it to these online daters for the enthusiasm with which they commodify themselves. Most seem unabashedly honest in exposing themselves, and few appear to be unfamiliar with the value-add. As Bedbury asserts, it's important to "know that your advertising must create a proposition that your product or service delivers on, time and time again." Accordingly, chirpy love-seekers offer up their services with the enthusiasm of merchants at a street market: "I visit the beach or the canyons at least once a week!" "I'm easy-going and intense!" "I give great massages!" And then there's the more subtle: "I love cunnilingus!"

What would you like to see more of here at The Donk? Poll Update: Awww...you folks are the best! I whine like a little baby girl who just had her favorite dolly taken away from her, and you reward me with a lead for "Absolutely nothing; it's great just how it is!" with "Ridiculing the ignorant and less-fortunate." (same thing, really) following close behind. Vote early and vote often!

Anyway, as if all this wasn't illuminating enough, another Expert stepped into the spotlight: Ken Goldstein, an economist with the Conference Board. According to Goldstein, "People with money to spend and a willingness to spend tend to spend money."

It's Ken Goldsteins like that which make me a little ashamed to be a Ken Goldstein. Thanks to Josh Bittker for the heads-up, though.

In 1999, however, Ms. Aniston was fleetingly featured as a grim waitress in Office Space, a box-office and critical dud that can count Mr. Arteta among its few advocates. — "Time to Leave Rachel Green and Friends Behind" (registration required)

What's next, for Pete's sake?! Calling Casablanca a "well-received love story"? The Godfather a "fairly popular genre film"? If I hear one more disparaging remark about this classic I swear I'm gonna set the building on fire.

For fans around my age, especially those who collected baseball cards back then, Canseco's retirement means another name gone from the storied rookie class of 1986. The 1986 rookie crop was touted by some at the time as perhaps the greatest ever, and it's a little strange to me that except for three or so players their careers are all over, and for the most part they did not reach the lofty heights that were predicted for them. Among the notables besides Canseco were Will Clark, Cory Snyder, Danny Tartabull, Pete Incaviglia, Kevin Mitchell, John Kruk, Todd Worrell, Robby Thompson, Bo Jackson, Mark Eichhorn, Bobby Bonilla, and Charlie Kerfeld. That 1986 Topps Traded set was loaded, I tells ya. As far as I can tell, the only three players remaining from the crop are Ruben Sierra (after a lengthy hiatus), Barry Larkin, and Barry Bonds, who makes up for a lot of disappointing performances by the others on this list.

May 13, 2002

Um...if at least one reader doesn't vote for the "Absolutely nothing; it's great just how it is!" option in my little poll I'm going to get really sad and my bottom lip is going to do that quivery-like thing and you won't like it when that happens!

Slow news day? Even if it is located "a few blocks south of ground zero," I'm not really sure why a $150 holdup of a T.G.I. Friday's is worthy of special coverage by MSNBC, including a major headline on my MSN home page. I know crime is down in Manhattan, but I still don't think this counts as major news.

I grew up in Old Bridge, a place in Central Jersey that nobody outside of Middlesex County has ever heard of, not least of which because it only became Old Bridge in 1975 (it was Madison Township before that). I generally describe it as being the city that connects the hometowns of Bruce Springsteen and Jon Bon Jovi.

May 12, 2002

"I've said it before and I'll say it again: democracy simply doesn't work." Well, the results from my first poll are in, and according to my audience penguins are funnier than all other animals put together, with 23 of the 45 votes cast. And even though this means that my readers are obviously foolish and wrongheaded (what part of the word OTTERS do you people not understand?), I've put up another one over there on your left. In this week's poll I ask the burning question: What would you like to see more of here at The Donk? Make your voice heard! [Okay, penguins are prettyfunny.]

May 10, 2002

Made my first trip down the shore tonight, a lovely evening in Seaside Heights with my sister Nancy. I won some prizes, played some Paperboy and 720, and ate two of the "world's biggest slices of pizza" at The Sawmill. I went down for some wholesome boardwalk fun but I definitely learned one thing: if it's not already, Spongebob Squarepants is gonna be absolutely huge!

Each summer the game booths at Seaside and Pt. Pleasant are filled with versions of the latest hot property, whether it's The Simpsons, South Park, Powerpuff Girls or the latest big action flick. Well, tonight about half of the many booths featured some sort of Spongebob merch, with a high percentage of those devoted entirely to Spongebob. I won a stuffed one early in the evening, and was greeted by adoring fans many times during my boardwalking, including at least one man who sang the theme song at me. Basically, if your town hasn't been overrun by Spongebobbians yet, it's only a matter of weeks.

Hmm...the penguin-lovers seem to have taken a commanding lead in the Funniest Animal Poll down there on your left, but there's still plenty of time to make your opinion known, especially since I plan on drinking a lot this weekend and maybe playing Skee-Ball, so who knows when that thing's gonna be changed. Personally, though, I'm pulling for the otters.

I started seeing a new dentist today for my myriad of pains and problems. I've gone through a number of dentists in my life, and there's always this depressing moment when one looks into my mouth for the first time, and I can immediately see him calculating the new deck or luxury cruise my terrible mouth will soon make it possible for him to buy. Anyway, the whole novocaine thing screwed up my schedule, and that's why I'm up at three in the freaking morning. Bleh. But at least I'm no longer mainlining Anbesol and Orajel.

May 08, 2002

In our continuing effort to give our readers every possible form of interactivity, we here at The Donk have added polls, courtesy of pollhost.com. My test poll, located to your left, involves funny animals. Coming soon: Ken Goldstein will personally show up at your house and make amusing sound effects while you read!

Well, things are now officially allowed to suck in Seattle. After two embarrassing weeks of "We here in Seattle are above that sort of thing" comments from management, Safeco executives rescinded the ban on the potentially-offensive-if-you've-been-living-in-a-convent "Yankees Suck!" t-shirts. I'm hoping that they will also lift the ban on showing emotion and exhibiting any baseball knowledge, which seemed to be in effect at about 90% of the Seattle games I attended during my years there.

Now, Mariner fans can wear their "Yankees Suck!" t-shirts with pride. Of course, with the unbalanced schedule the Yankees won't actually be returning to Seattle for another three months, so some fans were exercising their newfound rights by wearing "Yankees Suck" shirts to the Mariners/Blue Jays game, but I guess it's the thought that counts (especially when that thought is the suckage of the Yankees).

Anyway, my favorite part of the story is today's Great Moment in Civil Disobedience:

Not knowing of the change, freelance journalist Matt Villano held a two-hour protest on the corner of Occidental Avenue and Royal Brougham Way across from Safeco Field. Wearing a gray T-shirt that he had printed for $15 with the phrase "Mariners Management Sucks," Villano chanted through a megaphone that "Censorship sucks" and gave dissertations about fascism, the First Amendment and the Bill of Rights.

After handing out fliers with the dictionary definition of "suck" and getting about 100 people to sign a petition noting their disapproval of the Mariners' ban, Villano, 27, staged his entrance to the ballpark wearing a television camera microphone. When he wasn't stopped, he asked why. "He ignored me," Villano said of the gate employee.

God, isn't that beautiful? Can't you just picture this maroon, all pumped up over this gigantically important issue, striding up to the ticket gate, chest puffed out, waiting for the confrontation, and then...nothing. I laugh at you, Matt Villano!

BLIMPS! For those of you who may be visiting from Mike Whybark's site, I regret to inform you that negotiations broke down late in the process, and I will not be performing The Blimp Week Theme Song. If you haven't been over there yet, I cannot suggest strongly enough that you do so. Blimp Week is turning out to be a super-extravaganza, with music, dirigible disasters, German blimp rides, and ...um...The Rolling Stones. Pretty soon Mike's gonna run the world's best blimp-related blog, and you'll wish you were there during it's early, funnier days.

Rode home on the PATH train last night (from the quite-excellent Belle and Sebastian show) with four Mormon guys in their mid-twenties, including one who had just seen Manhattan for the first time and was completely blown away by it. What made this even more impressive was the fact that he had actually spent two years doing missionary work in Jersey City and Newark without taking the 15-minute ride across the Hudson to NYC (he apparently would have been recalled had he done so, as he was there to spread the gospel, not to sightsee).

Anyway, this was about the third or fourth time I've found myself in a situation involving a group of Mormons, and I was once again amazed by their ability to get large groups of people talking about life, spirituality, and pretty much anything. Obviously, a huge part of successful missionary work is getting people to start talking about their lives, and I'm always impressed with how effortless they make it seem.

"We deeply regret this unintentional error and offer our heartfelt apologies to both women," the magazine said in a statement. [...] In the statement, Penthouse said it had examined the purported images Kournikova in "painstaking detail" and received assurances from the photographer before deciding they were genuine.

May 06, 2002

Well, in case anybody's still out there, posting should resume tomorrow afternoon after work. Since the last time I was able to sit down at this computer I've watched the Mariners smack around the Yankees twice, the re-release of The Last Waltz (with a great THX sound system), a fine birthday dinner followed by an evening of drinking and burlesque, and an excellent Belle and Sebastian concert. I've left out the laundry and bill-paying portion of my time, not to mention the myriad of personal and professional issues.

Anyway, I hope to be back very soon with the hilarity and insight you've all grown to love and tolerate. In the meantime, though, here's a picture of a car with a donkey for a motor.

May 04, 2002

Having too great a New York weekend to post. Last night was spent with good friends McSorley's Old Ale House, memorialized by Joseph Mitchell in his story McSorley's Wonderful Saloon, a work I had read several times without realizing the actual place was so close. This was followed by dessert at Veniero's Pasticceria and Cafe. Right now I'm off to see the Yankees play my Mariners. Damn, I love this (and by this, I mean that) town!

May 02, 2002

Is there a better feeling than coming home after a tough day at work, feeling pretty blah, and realizing that you don't have to do a damn thing until work the following morning? Well, almost certainly, but it still feels pretty darn good. If anybody needs me, I'll be on the couch screaming at Kerry Kittles. It's funny, if the Nets win tonight the 2001-02 season was a huge sufccess, and if they lose it was a giant failure. That's a lot riding on one game, and I'll be watching every minute of it.

Did you know that Canada has at least seven Tragically Hip cover bands: Almost Hip, Completely Hip, From the Hip, Little Bones, Practically Hip, Strictly Hip, and the Wheat Kings! I learned this and much more on The Canadian Tribute Bands website, your source for all things Canadian and tributitious.

If you are a fellow blog publisher, you will no longer be able to post directly to individual posts, but can only link to the main page. Often readers who reach The Donk in "the middle of the story" miss out on important posts that could help further their understanding of the issues. For example, a reader who goes directly to my whining about my stat counter resetting post below would miss out on the funny picture of Jesus shooting hoops.

Despite the convenient nature of the permalinks at left, you will no longer be allowed to click on them, but must rather contact me with the name of the blog you wish to visit, after which I will respond ASAP with a brief, pithy summary of that blog.

You will no longer be allowed to e-mail me directly, but will instead have to send all correspondence to my mom (thedonkmom@hotmail.com) who will screen all of my mail.

You can only view The Donk by poking a hole in a cardboard tube and looking at the projection.

It may seem complicated, but by following the above simple rules you can avoid becoming the scum-sucking content thieves you so desperately long to be.